Mad World
by rockyhorrorgirl
Summary: 100 moments that take place before, during, and after the Twilight Saga, involving Carlisle and Esme Cullen - who said all parents don't have lives?
1. Trouble

_**1996**_

Emmett, Jasper, and Edward knew they were in serious trouble the moment the principal had mentioned calling their parents.

All three sat crammed together on the couch in the corner of the principal's office, staring at different spots of the room that weren't at each other or at the principal, who was alternating between glaring at them and looking at his computer. None of them spoke, and the only sound in the room was from Jasper shifting an icepack around on his head as he pretended to be hurt.

After all, he had gone through a window.

Still riled up from gym class, Emmett had been playfully nudging and wrestling with his brothers as they walked down the hall. It hadn't stopped once they'd reached the classroom, and one shove had sent Jasper out the first story window and into the bushes below. Edward had gotten angry at Emmett and slammed him into several desks before three teachers had managed to restrain him. It was all a big mess, and probably the reason why they were going to have to move again.

If they lived through the rest of the night.

The tension in the room was so thick Jasper could have probably whipped out his pocket knife and sliced it into pieces. Emmett was glaring so hard at the floor that Edward - who was wedged between the two on the couch - thought that a hole might spontaneously appear in the carpet.

_So, how mad are Carlisle and Esme gonna be? _Edward heard Emmett's thoughts a moment later. He really didn't even want to answer that question. Livid, pissed, upset, raging, and furious were all just simple words compared to what they were going to look like. They had just moved to the town two weeks ago, and started school last week. Esme had just finished work on the house, and Carlisle had just started to settle into a routine again at the hospital. If this caused them to move again . . . Well, Edward didn't want to think about that.

He knew his parents never raised their voices, either, making it all the worse. It would be like them saying 'I'm not mad, just disappointed.' in a raging sort of way that made it hurt even worse than them screaming. Edward had never been on this end of this before. It was always Emmett, usually with Jasper, that got the force of their angry parents. And they were both staring at the ground with such a defeated expression on both their faces that one would believe they had already been told off (technically they had, with the principal yelling at them for a full ten minutes about how they could have killed each other).

Kill each other. Yeah, right.

Emmett and Jasper felt Edward stiffen and straighten up between them - he had picked up their parents' thoughts. Emmett and Jasper mirrored him when their scents entered the building, growing closer with each passing second. The fact that they were forced to move at a human pace made the wait more agonizing.

Then they realized they didn't sense their father's scent. Only Esme's. All at once they seemed to think the same thing, and Edward could confirm it easily.

_Oh God, help us._

They could see through the glass windows of the principal's office out into the main office, and waited with held breathes as their mother stepped through the door. She approached the secretary, who pointed her on back to the office they were seated in. Esme looked up, and for a fleeting moment, she appeared every part a vampire. Her eyes had darkened, her lip was curled up, and even from where they were, they could heard the growl that grew in her throat - even if the secretary couldn't.

But the sight was reserved for them, and it changed within the same second. She gave a smile of thanks to the oblivious secretary before she rounded the desk and headed back into the principal's office.

Naturally, like all human men, he appeared flustered at the sheer sight of her beauty, especially by the dazzling smile on her face. She didn't look at her sons, only sat down on the other couch in the room with practiced ease and grace, crossing her legs that their principal couldn't seem to take his eyes off of. After a moment though, he cleared his throat and dragged his eyes upward - Esme knew exactly what he had been doing when ogling her legs, but said nothing about it.

"I apologize for whatever trouble my sons have caused, Principal Rowling, and I apologize for my husband's absence. There was an emergency at the hospital."

"Understandable, Mrs. Cullen."

"Can you elaborate on what happened, now? You weren't very descriptive on the phone." Her gaze finally flickered toward the three on the couch, and if possible, they sunk back further into the cushions.

The three cautiously watched their mother as the principal went through the story they had told him earlier, trying very hard to judge her reaction. Naturally, her face remained smooth as ever, not betraying a single emotion. She was good at hiding her emotions, and this time was no different.

"So how are they being punished here at school?"

"So far, I've only given them a month's of detention, and I'm seriously thinking of suspending them for a few days." He replied, gaze resting on the three on the couch.

"I'm sure we don't need to go that far. Is there anything else? Perhaps another months detention, or they could do some work around the school after school?" Esme began to negotiation, shamelessly batting her eyelashes and making the principal even more flustered.

"Maybe just one month's detention is enough, because I'm sure you and Dr. Cullen are going to have a talk with them at home?"

"Of course, Principal Rowling." Esme cast them a glance again, and conveniently they were looking in different directions again. "A very long talk at that."

"Then I'm sure that's all that needs to be done. Just that they're suspended the rest of the day - I think you may want to get Jasper checked out though, because of what I heard, he hit the ground pretty hard when Emmett pushed him out the window. Even if it was only one story."

"Naturally." She got to her feet. "Thank you again, sir. I'll make sure not a one of them steps out of line again."

He nodded, then looked at the boys.

"You're free to go boys. Goodbye, Mrs. Cullen."

She gave another smile, then turned to the three on the couch, who simultaneously stood. She gestured for them to go ahead out, not smiling at all now. They marched in a defeated line out of the office and out of the school, toward the Mercedes SUV that belonged to Esme. She was silent as they got into the car, Edward being the unlucky one to ride up front while the other two climbed in the back. There was still a third row of seats, but it was filled with boxes of paint and other things she was using as part of her latest remodeling project.

Esme climbed into the drivers seat, buckled up, grabbed the steering wheel, and said nothing. For a long moment, the only sound was silence.

"What," Esme finally began and all three of them flinched, waiting for her to explode. "In the name of God possessed you three to act like that today? Do you understand what danger you've put us in?" Her voice was deadly quiet, and none of them dared to speak. Esme stared at each of them in turn for a moment. Edward's hand grabbed the armrest unhappily, and Jasper and Emmett understood why a moment later as Esme turned back around and spoke again.

"I'm not mad at you lot, I'm just disappointed that you'd act like this."

The words stung intensely so.

They were on the road soon after, Esme blatantly disobeying the speed limit like always - she still drove slower than most of the Cullens, but managed to push at least fifteen mph over the limit.

The minute they missed the turn-off for the house and headed farther into town, the three knew exactly where she was going.

Ten minutes later they were pulling into the hospital parking lot, and Esme climbed out. They hesitated, but followed her nonetheless, following behind as she led the way into the hospital. She gave a smile to the receptionist, who gave a smile toward the three boys - they didn't return it.

Esme clearly knew the hospital like the back of her hand, and led them through a maze of halls until they reached a less populated area with few patients room. These were solid wood doors with nameplates on them, and she approached the one with Dr. Carlisle Cullen stenciled into it. She pulled open the door and silently pointed them inside.

Carlisle wasn't surprised to see them. He merely looked up from his work, leaned back in his chair, and stared at them with a level expression.

"You boys know what you did wrong. You understand now that we may have to move again?" He asked as Esme shut the door and they nodded.

"We were only messing around, dad." Emmett's voice was quiet when he spoke, the first daring enough to do so.

"I know, Emmett, but you three know better than to act like that just after we move to a town. We just got settled, and now you may have ruined it for everyone. I don't think the others will be pleased if we have to move to another town again." Carlisle continued, Esme moving to sit on the arm of his chair.

"We're sorry." Edward murmured. "It won't happen again." He said and the other two nodded.

"It was just a joke. We'll be careful." Jasper added.

"Good." Carlisle murmured. "I'm sure you know the way home. You're grounded the rest of the night, and if you so much as go anywhere besides straight home and to your rooms, I'll know."

They filed out of his office, and the minute the door shut and their scents disappeared, Esme laughed, fading into a sigh as Carlisle wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her into his lap. He pressed a kiss to her neck, trailing upward until he captured her lips in a kiss.

"Do you think we were too hard on them?" Esme inquired softly when he pulled away. "They're just kids."

"They know they shouldn't act like that." Carlisle murmured, running his fingers through Esme's hair. "Besides, they've been punished worse. We're not really going to move again. They'll just have to watch their step from now on."

"Its not easy, raising five teenagers. We can barely do it - I don't see how some of these humans manage to." She rested her head on his shoulder, fingers curling into his scrubs and lab coat. "I told them I wasn't mad, just disappointed. It looked like I had just killed their dog. I felt so terrible." She sighed again, frowning. "I hate punishing them."

"Grounded for only one night is hardly a punishment, since they're going hiking this weekend anyway. I'm sure detention at school will be enough. How much did they get?"

"A month. It would have been a suspension as well, if I hadn't batted my eyelashes at the principal a few times. The things I do to keep them out of trouble." She rolled her eyes with a half smile. Carlisle pulled her tighter to him, possessive.

"You were flirting with the principal?"

"Only after he ogled my legs."

"Do I need to go have a talk with him?"

Esme giggled, pulling him into another kiss.

"You know my legs are solely your property, as is the rest of my body, including my heart." She murmured and he chuckled. "Besides, I think you should worry more about the teenagers we have at home rather than their principal."

The door to the office swung open and Esme instantly jumped off Carlisle, surprised to see Alice and Rose lingering in the doorway.

"What's wrong?" Carlisle inquired, straightening his lab coat as Esme gave a half guilty smile that she managed to hide a few seconds later.

"We may or may not have wrapped a car around a tree on the way back from the city." Alice said flatly. "But it wasn't our fault! There was a dog in the road and I didn't want to hit it. No one saw us - but I imagine they've found the car by now."

Carlisle pinched the bridge of his nose and Esme sighed, staring at a spot on the floor while trying to stifle her laughter.

Yes, raising five - vampire - teenagers was certainly a task.


	2. Surprise

_This was a request from a reader - the prompt was for something that actually happened to Peter Facinelli, and I chose this situation. It's a bit cracky and unlikely to happen since Carlisle could tell who was on the other side of a door, but just pretend with me here. _

_I do take requests for moments you'd like to see, so feel free to message me with them. And again, thank you for all your wonderful reviews! They make my day!_

_Look for an update on Guns & Roses tomorrow or Monday._

_**2003**_

The knock on the door at 5am startled him.

He looked up from his book, frowning slightly. He was in a hotel room, having flown to New York for a medical conference that started at 8am that morning. Not that he would really sleep any, he just enjoyed having a completely silent hotel room. He had been comfortably relaxing after checking in at home and with his wife a few hours ago. That was the only problem about these conferences - he was away from his family for sometimes a week at a time. But the hotel room would be his home for the next few days - he wasn't going to complain any since the people hosting the conference had paid to him and the other doctors up in rather expensive and elegant rooms.

But the knock on the door intrigued him.

For a moment, he figured it was probably some inebriated man who had gotten the wrong room. There were too many humans in the hotel for him to get the exact scent of whoever was outside his door, but he detected a hint of vanilla - so either it was a very feminine man, or there was a drunken female standing outside his door. Interesting. Then again, this was New York City, so it wasn't completely surprising. He'd been to New York several times, and each time he came home with a new odd experience to tell his family about.

So Carlisle decided to ignore it, returning to the medical text he was flipping through, soaking up the words on the page like his brain was a sponge, determined to get any and all information he could about his current subject. He needed the information for tomorrow, when he was speaking to a group on neurosurgery and the techniques he used during it. The book offered a few insights about it that he hadn't thought of before. That was the good thing about books - you could always soak up more information from them. Even Carlisle didn't know everything.

The knock came again.

Frowning again, Carlisle went toward the door and attempted to peer out the peephole, but it was nothing but blackness. Someone was covering it up. Now he began to worry. The police? Or was someone playing a joke? He tried again, but it was still black and he had no hope of seeing who was on the other side. Something was wrong either way.

He didn't have time to ponder it as his cell phone on the table let out a shrill ring. He crossed to it and answered, still glancing back at the door.

"Hello?"

The voice that came back was crackling - interference from something - and nothing above a whisper.

"Open the door."

He hung up.

Carlisle had never really been afraid before, but whatever was happening now was disturbing him a bit. Just what was going on? The situation was indeed odd, and unnerved him just a bit. He thought about calling downstairs, but that wouldn't do any good. There would be no one at the front desk, and even if there was, whoever was outside his door would have time to get away. Maybe he was imagining things.

The phone rang again. No, definately not imaging that.

He hesitated, but answered.

"Hello?"

"Open the door!" Again, it was a whisper, but this time a bit more rushed.

"Who is this?" He inquired, but the phone disconnected itself. He was definitely going to listen to Alice the next time she suggested he upgrade his phone.

For the third time, his phone rang.

Mentally preparing himself, he answered again.

"Hello?"

"It's your wife, open the door!"

He began to do math in his head. He had just talked to Esme a few hours ago, and there wasn't any way she could possibly be standing outside of his hotel room door at that very moment. Was there? They had flights that could make it cross country quicker than commercial airlines. Perhaps she had come on one of those. But why? It wouldn't make sense for her to fly all the way out here.

Again, his mind went to someone playing a joke on him. But how would they know he was married? It was possible they had seen him in the lobby of the hotel, and had seen his wedding ring, but the circumstances of that happening were slim. Was someone trying to kill him? Had he done anything to offend anyone to that point? He didn't think so.

He wasn't sure what to do.

So he did the only logical thing he could think of.

Going to the small kitchenette, he grabbed a butter knife. He knew full and well that he could easily tear someone apart with his hands, but if it were someone trying to attack him - a human - then it would be easier to explain to the police why whoever was outside his door had a butter knife in his chest rather than chunks of flesh missing. Self defense, he would claim, and the situation would be resolved.

He went to the door, counted to three, and jerked it open.

Esme jumped back with a surprised yelp.

"Carlisle! Why in the name of God are you holding a butter knife?"

He glanced at her, then the knife in his hand. He gave a sheepish smile and tossed it back into his room. Esme stepped back toward him with an arched eyebrow.

"What are you doing here?"

"What? No _'Oh, it's so good to see you_!" or even a _'Hello Esme_!'?"

"I thought you were a drunken man. Or woman."

Esme stared at him a long moment, and then broke into a fit of giggles. He rolled his eyes, knowing full and well that he would now never live this down.

"I called you. Three times. I even said who I was."

"My phone cut out. I couldn't understand." He gave a small smile. "But I'm glad you're here now."

"Mhm." Esme smiled, but shook her head as she brushed past her husband into the hotel room. "Maybe next time I won't come and surprise you with my gift."

"What gift?"

She gave a mischievous smirk.

"I'm wearing it."


	3. Purple

_**Here's a quick one, done from another request. Hope you enjoy, and thanks again for all the lovely reviews!**_

When remodeling a new house, colors were very important to me. I loved the entire process of picking new colors - they had to go well together, and look okay on every wall of a room. I could spend hours, even days picking out colors just for one house. Even after I'd decided on colors, I still wasn't done. I ordered the ones I picked out, and then I tried them on the walls and decided which one looked the best out of each, and then I would order more to be put onto the walls.

Carlisle usually kept me company. He wasn't much help, as he had no sense of color whatsoever, but he would sit in the room I was working on and watch, read a book or newspaper, or work on some of the paperwork he had brought home.

"Okay, what about this one?"

He looked up from the newspaper he had spread on the floor in front of him. It was almost adorable, to see him sitting cross-legged in the middle of one of the old white sheets I had put down so as not to get paint on the tiled floor of the new kitchen I was finishing up. Only Carlisle and I were in the house at that moment - the rest of the family wouldn't be joining us until later in the week, by which time the entire house would be done.

"It looks . . . blue."

"Compared to the other one?" I stepped aside to show him the other swatch of blue I had painted on the wall so he could compare.

"It's . . . bluer?"

I sighed, exasperated at him. I didn't mind though - we went through this every time. It was almost ritualistic.

"Which one do you like better?"

He seemed to want to humor me, for he got to his feet and moved closer for inspection. He studied each one in turn for several minutes and I rolled my eyes at his antics.

"The one on the left." He finally decided and I nodded, setting that aside for now as I grabbed the two reds I had picked out. With a new paintbrush, I took each one and made a small swatch of the color on the wall, just above the blue. Carlisle remained standing beside me, watching me work. I knew he liked to watch how I worked, enjoying working out the methods to my madness. Watching me work was just as much fun for him as remodeling was for me.

"Okay now pick a red one." I stepped back again. Again, he studied each one.

"I can't tell with your painting technique." He said at last and I frowned.

"What about my painting technique?" I knew he was teasing, so I decided to play along.

"It's odd."

"Here, let me try again." I picked up my brush and paint, and pretended to turn toward the wall. At the last minute, I whirled on him and painted a line of red across his mouth. "Better?"

"Still a bit off." He muttered, trying hard not to let the paint get in his mouth. "Let me show you how it's done." He picked up the blue paint and the brush, and before I could react, he painted a line of blue across my mouth to match his red one.

"You need some yellow." I mused, already reaching for the other cans of paint. I popped it open, and without even bothering with a brush, I dipped my fingers in it and ran the paint all along the side of his face, down his neck, and onto his shirt.

"You know, green does look rather good with blue." He replied, before splattering the green paint all across my front - and the wall behind me.

He was asking for it now.

It was a good thing there were white sheets spread out across the ground, protecting my tiled floors as we flung paint at each other. My hand found its way into the purple, and I made handprints all down his front. He grabbed pink and twisted the color into fistfuls of my hair.

I grabbed the orange and ran. Paint splattered across my back and I shrieked, whirling and blindly flinging paint behind me. The orange splattered into Carlisle's hair as he tried to duck - in the same movement, he grabbed me around the waist, his other hand coming up to run down my front, spreading white across my clothes. I dumped the rest of the orange into his hair.

"Do you realize how childish this is?" I asked, grabbing one of the other cans and popping the lid off. He grabbed it as well and we wrestled over it - having paint all over our hands made it difficult.

"You started it!" He accused with a laugh as the paint can went flying and we were both covered in magenta colored paint. We grabbed other cans and continued to fling it at each other.

When the paint ran out, I didn't stop there. I flung myself on him and tackled him, where I pressed myself against my husband and smeared the paint on my front onto his, a smirk across my paint covered face.

"I like this version of remodeling better." He mused, glancing around now. I followed his gaze - evidence of our fight covered the walls now, as shades of all sorts of the various colors were now splattered across the wall, like a Pollock painting. I had half a mind to leave it like that. "You look good covered in paint. You should wear it more often."

"Your mouth is red." I mused, tracing the edges of the red paint that rimmed his mouth.

"And yours is blue." He gave a smirk and pulled me closer. He chuckled, golden eyes filled with something I couldn't quite place.

"What's so funny?"

He gave a mischievous smirk of his own.

"Want to make purple?"


End file.
